Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision
by Underwater Owl
Summary: The story of the downfall of Kevin Regnard, and the attempted prosecution of the Red Eyed Ghost. A story of murder most foul. Significant spoilers contained.
1. Prologue

There are a number of ways a person can be driven mad.

You can tear the foundation of their world out from under them, and tear the sky open above them after that. Kevin Regnard's world rocked and heaved the day his master's family was killed. The sky ripped open shortly afterwards and his body was taken over. He'd given his consent, of course, drank the monster's blood of his own free will… but the possession had sealed his fate in a way nothing else could. It was intimate and strange, it felt a little like being hollowed out with a sharp spoon to make room for something else in his chest. Sometimes he wants to mourn for the parts of himself that used to be where Albus rests now.

The tears won't come. Maybe one of the things his knife-edge chain carved out of his insides was his ability to weep. As he lies in the dark that last night, he's grateful. If he were crying they'd hear him and come for him, and then it would all be for nothing.

Yes, lying in the dark, trying to smother the sound of his own breathing, listening to the floorboards creak above him, Kevin Regnard is aware that he has lost a great deal. He is aware that he has been driven mad.

Now it's too late. The hand on the seal moves, and he forgets his silence and screams. Albus roars in rage, and his world goes out from under him one last time. He feels himself falling.

That's how this part of the story ends. It's time to go back to the beginning.


	2. Tricks and Trumps

When Kevin has a secret, part of him is always absolutely sure that everyone around him can see it. From everything to catching the cook helping himself to the master's better wines, to concealing Marie's surprise birthday party from her that moment, secrets leave him feeling intensely uncomfortable. It's like having a wad of dry cotton painfully lodged in the back of his throat. He flushes, he stutters, he can't make eyecontact.

This time, the secret is branded onto his flesh. It would be especially difficult to keep, he suspects, if people expected him to behave normally. Luckily for him, no one does. He sees almost no one the first day; the entire household is shrouded in silence. The muffled sobs of servant girls echo down hallways. The Sinclairs were well-loved by everyone around them.

Kevin doesn't know what to do. Albus is underneath his skin, crooning and laughing and feeling him out. Emily Sinclair, the surviving daughter, is sobbing in her nursery. He checks on her first, silently, so she doesn't realize he's there. Lying to her right now is simply more than he's capable of handling.

Instead, he goes down to the foyer to check on the constable that Inspector Levy left to stay the night. The man is still waiting, standing guard at the door. Someone else has already brought him a tray of tea, Kevin is glad to see, because the thought of talking to him like this is too frightening to bear. Everyone around him will know somehow, he's sure. The mark on his skin will shine like a beacon, through his shirt and vest and jacket, and he'll be caught and probably killed, Albus had said.

Scurrying away from the constable, Kevin follows his feet through the halls, checking one room then the next for something, anything, anyone. There's nothing. They're all dead.

Albus would help him change the past, he'd said, but Kevin doesn't know how or why. They'd talk about it later, he'd said, after the contract had sunk in. After he'd settled. Kevin can feel him settling, curling up inside him and preening like some awful metal bird.

And he's in the library, now. People are here. People are moving. It takes him a second to focus on who it is and what they're saying. Isaac, the elderly librarian, is talking to Lucy the maid.

The maid who was here at the time. The maid who saw what happened. That's right, that's who Lucy is. Lucy is a good girl who hasn't stopped trembling and crying since they found her, crouched in the cupboard face in her hands. Isaac glances up when Kevin steps into the room, and Lucy does not.

Isaac has hair the colour of charcoal, and eyes that look right through you. Isaac stares at him and for a terrifying second, Kevin is sure that it's all going to be over. But instead of looking accusing, Isaac's face crumples in something closer to concern. He reaches out a hand to him, and Kevin draws in a shuddering breath of relief.

"I know you're grieving," Isaac says, looking right into Kevin's eyes, despite the fact that he's apparently talking to Lucy. Maybe he's talking to both of them. He glances down at her after a moment, "I know you are, Lucy, but you're the only living witness and they have the man in custody. You have to identify him for them to keep him, and if they let him go he'll never be found again and he'll go unpunished."

"Isaac?" Kevin barely recognizes the sound of his own voice. "May I speak to you about this?"

The elderly librarian nods, and draws him aside, taking him by the arm and leaning in. The proximity sends a flash of worry through him again, and inside him Albus rumbles. Kevin doesn't understand what he means and can't allow himself to lose focus, so he dismisses the chain with a thought and focuses on Isaac's face. It had always been lined, but today the wrinkles are deeper set; his eyes have bags under them and he looks so unhappy. Kevin hasn't ever seen him not laughing before.

"They captured someone?" He asks, softly. "Do they know who he is? Do they know who sent him?"

"He's someone who does these sorts of things for contract," Isaac explains, softly, "and they don't think they have any way of learning who sent him. I'm sorry, Kevin, I wish there was more I could tell you. If you accompany her to the station, maybe the inspector will have more to tell you?"

It's a good suggestion. Kevin nods, and turns back to look at Lucy. He wishes he has some words of comfort to give her, to help her with what she's going through. It's important that she find the courage to continue, from somewhere within herself. He doesn't know what words to say. He's never been much good at comforting anyone.

Isaac, though, Isaac knows. Isaac closes his eyes, sighs, and murmurs;

"Lucy, we've always said, all of us, that we'd do anything for them. This is one last anything. They need this. Emily needs this." And even if it makes Lucy start to sob a little harder, Kevin knows it's enough. Anything means _anything _ and she just needs a few minutes to compose herself now.

_Anything means anything, anything means anything, _Albus echoes inside him. His voice is like granite cracking in half, it echoes in Kevin's head like fireworks and he wishes desperately that there were some way, any way, to shut it out. _You'd do anything for them, wouldn't you, Kevin? Anything to get them back, anything to change the past and to make it all right again. Anything anything._

Yes, anything. Minutes have passed, apparently, because Lucy is standing, putting her hand in his, and peering at him with concern in her red-rimmed eyes. Isaac has left the room.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," she's murmuring, and it does make sense that people keep apologizing to him; he's been with the Sinclairs the longest. But that absolutely doesn't mean he has to like it, and it doesn't mean he knows how to respond, either. What does one say to something like that?

Nothing, in this case, apparently. Lucy is leading him out into the hall, or perhaps it's him leading her… it isn't easy to tell. He actually suspects it's Albus somehow leading both of them. They make it down the stairs and past the Constable with his frightening, knowing eyes. They make it into a carriage and the carriage sets off, and before long they're going to be at the bastille where the man who destroyed Kevin's world is waiting.

_I'm starting to get hungry, Kevin, _Albus croons to him as the carriage rocks back and forth. _I'm starting to get hungry, Kevin, and it's going to be time to feed me soon. Remember that you promised to feed me?_

Yes, he had promised to feed him, hadn't he? Kevin remembers it being something rather dreadful and specific, but can't for the life of him recall what it was. He can barely remember where it is they're going now. That's right, it's to the prison.

"Do you suppose they're in a better place?" Lucy asks, hopefully, and Kevin mumbles a polite agreement, because it certainly wouldn't be acceptable or polite to say 'no.'

Still, she seems to get the gist of it, because she doesn't ask again. _I'm so hungry, _Albus is still saying, _I'm so hungry, Kevin, take care of me? Why aren't you taking care of me?_

He can't hear over the chain's voice. Lucy thinks he's grief stricken. Suddenly, they're in the room and she's being led ahead of him, he's following. There's a narrow hall and bars, and Inspector Levy isn't there but his young aide is, and the aide has brought them to the cell door and Lucy absolutely screams.

Kevin feels like he's going to be sick. Albus whispers, _there's a window. There's a window in his cell with bars on it, it goes from here onto the street. If we were to stand outside we could just reach in-_

He can't hear the outside world over the whisper of the chain in his ear, but he can see. He can see the man's face, and the man's sneer, and the man's hands that are responsible for destroying his home, his family, his master and mistress and their beautiful children.

Kevin is a peaceful creature, but in this moment he experiences blind loathing like he never has before in his life. He wants this smirking wretch to be dead. He's heard jokes about this his entire life, but for the first time ever, Kevin literally sees red.

All of a sudden the noise rushes back in. Lucy has fainted, other officers have come running, the prisoner is laughing and Kevin hears a burbling scream of rage burst out of his own throat. It startles everyone in the hall, himself included. Someone is grabbing his arms and ushering him away from the door. He looks up, and into the face of a rather alarmed looking Inspector Levy.

"We'll get you a nice cup of tea, Kevin," the man is saying, softly, pulling him out towards the desks, "and you're going to be quite all right, I promise. I don't know who decided to let you in there, that had to have been a nasty shock. The inspector is- was- a friend of the Sinclairs, and Kevin has known him personally for years. They're friends, one might say. If not friends, then acquaintances, at least. Anyways, close enough that the inspector knows his name and can usher him out of the hall, into his little office, and into an overstuffed chair. Kevin spares a quick thought for Lucy, knowing that they shouldn't be separated, that it's cruel to abandon her.

The door to the Inspector's office closes, and Kevin puts his head down on the desk to let himself cry.

_Anything, anything, you said anything, anything at all._

0000

Nighttime is hard. Usually he'd have rounds to do, windows to make sure are locked. He doesn't any more, no one's going to come in here. Emily is heavily guarded and nothing else matters. Usually he'd go check on all the children, but tonight he doesn't. He draws his curtains, dresses in his nightshirt, and lies on the bed in the dark.

Without even moonlight streaming into the room, it takes him some time for his eyes to adjust. Once they have, and he can vaguely make out shapes in his room, he looks down at himself and pulls the collar of his nightshirt to the side and down just far enough that he can see the edge of the seal.

It's black and sickening looking. He swallows down bile, and traces his fingers over the crooked edge of the thing.

"Albus?" He asks the darkness.

_ You don't have to speak to me out loud, Kevin, _Albus answers him, _I can hear your thoughts. I'm inside you, after all. _

Right. He isn't quite comfortable enough to do that yet. It also makes him wonder what else it is the chain is hearing, from that seat his has inside him.

"Albus, why does the seal look like a clock? Does it mean your time with me is being counted down?"

There's a warm rumble of assent, as though he's said something clever and is being petted on the head for it. Kevin isn't sure how he feels about that.

"And you said if it ran out, then my life would be forfeit?" This time, nothing answers him. That isn't unusually. Albus hasn't been particularly forthcoming about anything, and Kevin knows it would be an utter mistake to trust him. He doesn't.

It's just… the chance is too big to pass up.

"You were hungry?" He asks again, remembering belatedly and sitting up in bed. "Should I find you something to eat?"

_Follow me, _says Albus, _follow me, follow me, anything, anything. _And Kevin follows.

In his nightshirt he follows, on bare feet, he follows. It's like sleepwalking. The summer air is warm, even in the middle of the night. The breeze picking up sends a faint chill down his back and he ignores it. The walk through the streets, walk over paths, down cobbled roads, past windows with candles burning and windows that are dark. Kevin's mind melts away, and he is aware of nothing. He feels peaceful.

It's Albus's work, he knows, but it's the first time since it happened that he hasn't felt agonizing pain and he just doesn't care. He doesn't care so completely that they end up here, at the side of this building, looking in this small, barred window.

"Are you in there?" Albus says, using Kevin's voice, and the man in the cell stirs and sits up, then stands. Kevin rouses from his trance lazily, and his eyes widen as the man comes to the window.

"Are you here to break me out?" The assassin asks, reaching up through the bars. "About time you got here. I swear, these people are mad as march hares."

_I'm hungry, _Albus croons again, _let me, let me, he's going to escape, he's planning to break out and escape, let me stop him. Are you going to let him escape, Kevin? Are you going to let him go after he killed those children? Is he going to get away with this?Tell me I'm allowed to stop him?_

"Yes." Kevin hisses, sibilant and soft, and just has time to see the assassin's eyes widen in recognition through the bars of the window before Albus bursts from his chest like an avenging white crusader, shield and sword and blood, blood-

And then Kevin doesn't remember anything more. He sleeps. And distantly, somewhere, somehow, he feels something inside his chest throb, ache, twist and wind up tight like a coiled clockspring. The hand painted onto his skin moves forward to _one._

When he wakes, he's in his own bed, safe and sound. He can't work out where on earth all this blood is from.


	3. Funerary Services

The funeral is held the next day. It should be raining, Kevin thinks, but for some reason the sun is shining high in the sky, beating down on everyone and making the horses sweat. Their long tails flit irritably, and Emily weeps and fusses with her proper dress and petticoats miserably. Kevin can't blame the child. The black everyone in the procession is wearing seems to absorb as much heat as possible; he can see more than one face painted bright red, can hear the wheezing breaths of people around him.

The church, at least, had been cool. The dark stone was damp with condensation, and what was left of the family had sat huddled at the front of the building; the last, loyal servants clustered protectively around one little girl. A few of them were all that was left of the once impressive staff. There had been disappearances, usually coupled with petty thefts, now that no one was left to organize things, to pay wages. Kevin has noticed missing candlesticks, missing silverware.

It makes him sick to his stomach. How could anyone have known the Sinclairs and not been loyal to them? How could anyone claim to be loyal to them, too, then go picking over the bones of the carcass like this? Isaac is desperately trying to regain control of the situation, petitioning for access to the family's funds in order to keep the household maintained, but it isn't going quickly enough for everyone. Kevin knows he should be of more help to him, but somehow he feels he can barely manage to help himself right now.

"What happened, Albus?" He whispers to the air as they walk down to the cemetery, drowning once more in the noonday sun. "What happened last night? He said he was going to try to escape, we must warn Inspector Levy, we simply must."

_You don't have to worry about that, Kevin. _Albus's voice is like hot oil over his skin. _I stopped him, remember? You let me stop him._

He doesn't understand until they're at the edge of the grave. Inspector Levy is waiting just outside the gates making eyecontact with him meaningfully. He wants to talk after the service is done, but Kevin isn't sure he can. It's difficult enough as it is to just meet his gaze. Instead, he looks down at his hands, and almost topples over in shock at what he sees there.

The blood from this morning. He'd forgotten it, somehow, but it comes back in a rush. It had been all over his hands, spattered across his nightshirt. He'd hidden the garment under his mattress and hurried into the bath to scrub the dried stuff off his skin. Out of sight, it had slipped out of mind, so completely he has to question whether or not something is wrong with him. But now, he can see traces of it caked under his fingernails. The last few flecks he'd missed. He laces his hands together behind his back and starts to pick the stuff off furiously.

Albus had said he'd stopped him, and how could Kevin have forgotten how? There was so, so much blood. _I was hungry, _ the chain supplies innocently, and Kevin thinks he's going to be sick.

The coffin is being lowered into the grave as he frets. He tries to focus on what's happening, on what the priest is saying, but he can't quite do it. The first handful of earth hits the coffin, and Emily hits his legs, throwing her little arms around his waist and sobbing against his stomach. If he touches her hair he'll get blood in it. She's crying and crying and Isaac is staring at him over the graves which contain the bodies, and Inspector Levy is staring at him from the graveyard gate, and quite briefly Kevin's entire world lurches.

When he can see again, Emily is in Lucy's arms instead of his, and Isaac is steering him by the elbow towards the Inspector. Kevin is sure for a moment that he's under arrest, but both men are staring at him with naked concern.

"We would have a damn Indian summer," Isaac is muttering, "we'll get you some water, Kevin, and you'll feel better in a second, I swear."

"Is he all right?" Levy asks as they reach him, and Kevin is utterly thankful that no, it doesn't seem like he's about to be thrown in prison for murdering the murderer. Which makes him a murderer too. He's a murderer. He doubles over, suddenly sure he's about to vomit.

"Heatstroke," Isaac explains, reaching to pull Kevin's hair back, "probably made worse by the fact that he hasn't slept. Or eaten, for that matter. We should get him something to drink before he ends up worse, and get him out of this sun."

"I have a carriage waiting," Levy murmurs, "let's take him back to the estate."

In the carriage, Kevin really starts to remember. He remembers the stomach slicing open, the guts spilling out and Albus's teeth-

"I can't go back there," he whispers to Isaac, leaning against his shoulder, "to the Sinclair home. I can't go back there, Isaac." He's got blood on his hands and he'll destroy everyone there, he'll cover Emily in it, he'll bring destruction down upon everyone.

"Don't be silly, Kevin, you're not a coward like the others." Isaac's fingers comb through his hair, and Kevin shudders. No, he's right, in light of the abandonment by the other servants he can't simply leave. He desperately wants to tell his friend that it isn't remotely the same, that he has a different reason, a better reason, but Inspector Levy is sitting on the bench across from them, watching them closely, and if he gives up now, he gives up everything. He gives up his chance of getting them back.

"You're right," he admits, numbly, closing his eyes and letting the carriage rock him, while he continues to lean on Isaac's shoulder. It isn't precisely comfortable, but he's felt far worse. He finds himself starting to drowse off, listening to the creak of the wood around him, listening to the other two men begin to speak, though he can't quite make out the words.

Once they're back, they lead him down to the kitchen and settle him onto a chair, bringing the water they'd promised him. He drinks like he really is thirsty, not just in agony over what he's learned, and is surprised to find that when the cool liquid touches his lips he's suddenly parched, drinking as much of it as he can. Isaac makes a noise for him to slow down, and he tries to, but it isn't easy. He can hear Albus laughing at him, somewhere in the back of his mind.

"The man Lucy identified wasn't in his cell this morning," Levy eventually says, breaking the quiet. Isaac's head jerks up and the water glass nearly slips from Kevin's fingers. The librarian is the one who composes himself to speak first.

"He's escaped?" His voice sounds raw, and full of a terrible pain. Kevin looks up at him and tries to feel what he's feeling. He finds he simply can't. He's numb, every part of him is numb.

"That's what it seems. It means your suspicions were right; if someone paid for him to disappear it means they didn't want him revealing anything under pressure, namely who his sponsors were. The Sinclairs were absolutely targeted by another powerful family, though without his testimony we have no way of telling who."

Then Levy pulls off his glasses and rubs them with the edge of his jacket, slipping them back up his nose and glancing between them.

"I'm sorry. I'll arrange for another man to come by in order to see that Emily is well guarded, and I've put in a word with the right people to try to get you power over the estate until she's grown, Isaac. What you should really do is move her somewhere. An inn, a few townships away."

The idea of taking her out of her home at a time like this, of putting her on the road and parceling her off with some stranger is positively horrifying. Kevin wants to come out with it, to admit that the man is dead and won't ever be coming to hurt his little girl ever again… but that's a truth that can't come out just yet. And who knows? There might be other assassins. He nods seriously, looking up at Isaac, hoping the librarian is capable of making the arrangements.

"It will be done," he agrees, looking more tired than ever. "Thank you, inspector. Can I get you anything while you're here? It's a little hot for tea, but there's more water."

He's already moving for the pitcher, to top up Kevin's glass, which is nearly empty, he realizes with a start. He drank that much that quickly? And on top of that, he's feeling hungry, a gnawing, deep hunger. He doesn't know what to do. Levy has answered Isaac's question, though Kevin has missed what was said.

He can't be here any longer. He stands, and moves toward the door, setting the glass down on the table and drawing in a deep breath to pull himself together. Isaac says something to Levy as the door closes behind him, murmuring a brief apology on his behalf. 'Kevin isn't handling this well.'

No, Kevin isn't handling this well at all. Kevin makes his way back up to his bedroom, to claw his way out of the stifling black clothes. He drags the curtains shut and hurls himself into his bed, burying his face in the pillows and finding himself on the verge of tears.

_Did you think 'anything' was going to be easy? _Albus questions him softly, poisonously,

"I didn't think it would be murder," he answers, whispering into the dark. His fingers come up to rest on the seal, and maybe it's his imagination but he swears he can feel it throbbing. "You didn't tell me it would be murder."

_We're going to change the past, little Kevin, did you think that wouldn't come easily? Did you think that wouldn't require blood?_

No, he'd never thought it would be easy. Albus's words make him shudder. He supposes some part of him had always known.

_I'm going to be hungry again soon._

"No!" He shouts, far too loudly, clapping a hand over his mouth and praying no one comes running. _No. _He isn't going to allow that. Once was a mistake, an accident, and anyways the man had utterly deserved it so he isn't particularly upset about that, but it's only going to be the once. He will not become complicit in feeding people to his chain.

_ It isn't as though it matters, Kevin. After we've gone back in time they'll all be alive again, and right as rain. The world will have reset itself, remember? No one will ever know anything happened._

The words are poisonous, and so enticing. And he'd said anything, hadn't he? Anything, as Albus keeps reminding them. Anything to get them home and safe again, to make his family whole, to make up for having been so foolish enough as to let them out of his sight for even a split second. He'd killed them, and now he has a chance to undo it all.

_Exactly, Kevin, you have it now, Kevin, Kevin-_

"Kevin!"

Someone is pounding on his door, calling his name in such a way that makes him suspect they've been yelling it for some time. He moves to answer it and is dragged to a stop.

_The seal! Cover the seal, you stupid boy!_

The seal. It's uncovered. He throws himself off the bed and scrambles for his dresser, for a nightshirt, for anything that'll cover it completely.

"Kevin, I can hear you in there, and if you don't unlock the door right this moment I swear to you I will break it down!" It's Lucy's voice, and Kevin knows she couldn't possibly break the door down, but that she does have a key and that's far more dangerous.

"A moment, Lucy, I'm indecent, please!" He scrambles into the nightshirt and pulls on a dressing gown on top of that, making it to the door just as her key turns in the lock. She pushes the door open and the hall light floods into his dark little room. He blinks. He'd all but forgotten it was daytime outside.

"Kevin. I'm sorry for waking you, but Emily is asking for you." Her voice is soft and apologetic, and her eyes are still red from weeping. He can see the handkerchief still clutched in her hand, and has to wonder how she came to be the one taking care of the little girl.

Better her than him. She won't pollute her the way he will. Her fingernails are clean. He closes his eyes, leans against the doorframe and lets out a deep breath.

"Tell her you can't find me, Lucy?" It hurts to say, and it hurts to see the look on her face. She's shocked, dismayed, betrayed on the little girl's part, and he can't blame her. "I can't do it. I'm…"

Apparently, however he looks lends credence to his story. Lucy looks him up and down, bites the inside of her cheek and nods, stepping away from the door.

"Come by later if you can, Kevin, that little girl dotes on you and needs every bit of love right now that she can get."

"I will," he promises, waiting until Lucy is down the hall before closing the door on her and moving back into the darkness of his room. He goes to the curtains and pulls them open an inch, letting the watery outside light in before moving to the small mirror he keeps perched above his dresser, to see if he can spot in himself whatever it was that Lucy saw.

It would be hard to miss. The circles under his eyes are almost as dark as the seal against his skin. He looks papery and weak. His hair is lank, and tangled. His complexion is even more pale than usual. He looks torn apart by grief, and exhausted. He looks exactly the way he feels.

Out of morbid curiosity, he pulls the edge of his nightshirt down a touch to see the edge of the seal. The lines have changed again, and Kevin scrambles quickly to yank the nightshirt off over his head. He wasn't mistaken.

"Two o'clock already, Albus?" He wants to beg for more time, but doesn't know how to.

_You aren't feeding me enough, _the chain grumbles, _if I had somewhere to draw energy from that wasn't you, you'd last a little longer, and maybe we would actually have a chance at making the changes you want to, you stupid little human._

Kevin groans and runs his hands through his hair.

_ You said you'd do anything, anything, anything._

The words echo through his mind, taunting him, tempting him. He loved his family more than anything, and Emily is crying for him right now. Because of him.

He can't fail her.


	4. Interfered

Three more nights, and the hand of the clock has moved to three o'clock. That's a quarter of the space he has, and Kevin is starting to panic. No solutions are presenting themselves and he still doesn't know what to do. The house is full of people looking for him so he spends all the time he can outside, moving through the streets, trying to ignore the sound of Albus's voice.

And then it happens. Maybe it was inevitable, from the moment he took that first sip of Albus' blood. It happens the way it had to; it's the logical next step. He's in the street and he hears screaming, and in a flash of hysteria he starts to run. Emily is hurt, Emily needs him. Only when he rounds the corner into the alley, it isn't Emily he finds waiting there, it's a child and two men. The child is on the ground bleeding, clutching his arms around his head to try to protect it. One of the mean aims a violent kick at the little boy's ribs.

Kevin remembers what being kicked feels like. The boy screams in pain, Kevin screams in anger, and Albus screams in delight. The chain doesn't need to ask for permission. He is released. He bursts forth and flies at the men with a howl like a banshee and then the walls are painted with their blood. It's strange, how it can seem to get everywhere, and not a drop of it shows up on Albus's armor.

The boy hasn't stopped screaming, and Kevin can't say he blames him. The sight of the carnage is a little much for him, too. The chain's maw gapes wide open and snaps shut, crunching down on bone and rending flesh. It could destroy everything in sight right now, Kevin knows, so he looks down at the little boy and moves forwards to grab him, while Albus continues to make short work of the other two.

"Let me go, let me go!" The child struggles in his arms, so Kevin sets him down again, turning him in the direction of the alley entrance and nudging him to run. It doesn't take much to get him to tear off like a shot, as though his life depends on it. Perhaps it does. Albus is looking after him with a dissatisfied rumble, and Kevin shakes his head firmly. No. They aren't killing that sort of people.

And once you start to look for the criminal element, it's amazing how quickly you find them. They interrupt a robbery a few streets down, and Albus kills that man too, and Kevin can't even bring himself to care because all he feels right now is deep, desperate relief. He feels, for the moment, full.

That night, he sleeps properly for the first time since the funeral, despite knowing that he has been corrupted, and that he will never be the same.

Kevin never does go to Emily. Kevin watches from his bedroom window as she's bundled down the front steps in the night, crying, and pulled into a carriage. He steps back from the window when he sees Lucy try to look up and see if she can spot him. He won't give her the pleasure of knowing she was right, that he does regret this.

He reminds himself again that if he does this right, she'll never have gone through this. She'll never have missed him a single day, she'll never be sent away like this. She will never lose her home, she will never lose her family. It's going to be all right. He doesn't look down again, he crosses to his door, fixing his cravat and stepping into the hall.

"I was just coming to find you," Isaac says, and Kevin just about jumps out of his skin. It's been three days since the morning of the funeral, and Isaac and Kevin have barely spoken since. This is mostly because Kevin has been hiding out in his room. He hasn't eaten; it seems unfair to deny Albus what he's giving himself. The chain has only just stopped screaming at him.

But how is he supposed to do it? Supposed to go out and kill someone?

"The pantries are empty." Isaac informs him, and Kevin nods like he's known this all along. "Inspector Levy has asked us to a dinner in his home, I told him we'd both attend. You need to clean yourself up and come with me, he has more he wants to ask us about managing this estate and I don't know half the things you do about the organization of the guard… not that there are any guards left."

"I don't know, Isaac." He pleads, looking up at him and trying to communicate his nervousness at the idea. Please, let him think that it's nothing except lingering sadness. Please, don't let him suspect. Inside him, Albus shifts and whines. He's starving to death and Kevin is being so cruel; just a bite, just one little bite, he'd do anything for a bite he really would. All Kevin has to do is let him. This is torture.

And damn, Isaac is talking. Kevin's attention snaps back onto him, and he knows that Isaac is insisting that he come, but because he hasn't been listening he has no way to argue the point.

Which is how he ends up shuffled, utterly reluctantly, off to dinner at Inspector Levy's home. The man, who hasn't been discussed in great detail, is narrow and sharp, with a face like a pinched dog and slick black hair. His grey eyes seem to watch every movement, and he used to make Kevin feel uncommonly guilty even before he had this secret stamped onto his breast bone.

"Welcome," he says, as he opens the door for his guests and gestures for them to enter. This is a home of modest means; there is no one to take their coats. At the moment, the inspector still has more than they do. "Please come in. Dinner is almost ready."

They gather around the little wooden table, and Kevin tries not to be resentful. It's hard, when he considers everything they've lost. Not that the food or wealth was really the issue, but sitting here, relying on the charity of others, makes it impossible to not notice how different everything has been since the crash. Tucking his chair in, he doesn't bother to try to focus on what Levy and Isaac are saying. It somehow seems as though it doesn't concern him. How could it possibly concern him?

Albus shakes him out of that little fantasy as quickly as can be, after only a few minutes into the meal. Kevin is cutting determinedly at the stringy chicken breast when his chain runs invisible fingers up his spine, and hisses in his ear.

_Listen, Kevin._

It's so vivid to him that he's sure for a moment that the other two men must have heard it, but when his head jerks up quickly they don't seem surprised. The look in Levy's face is pitying, more than anything else. Isaac just looks grey.

"Three people are dead so far. The boy, who witnessed the first murders, he described a monster." Kevin can see why Albus wanted him to listen, though he isn't sure what about it has Isaac looking so grim. It isn't as if they were good people… though obviously no one else would have any way of knowing that.

"Do you think it was shock?" The librarian asks, reaching for his glass of wine. "The mind can play tricks on us in situations like that, especially with a child so young. Perhaps it was merely his own way of describing things he didn't want to think about?"

"I've seen cases like that before," Levy agrees, and Kevin feels a brief stab of relief. It doesn't last. "But I'm quite sure that's not what this was. He was very specific about the details of the monster, and he reported a man moving with it. It wouldn't be the first murder of that sort we've seen in the city."

"You must be joking," Isaac challenges, pulling back with a scoff, "these things don't happen in anything other than children's stories."

"Neither do cities falling into the ground," something in Inspector Levy's expression is dangerous, "but we've seen that come to pass, haven't we? I'm being serious, Isaac. There have been a number of cases in the past few years of people forming bonds with monsters and killing innocent civilians. It's a frustrating situation for a number of reasons- for one thing, I lose personal control over the investigation. We're required to call in an outside organization to supervise."

For a man as compulsively meticulous as Levy, Kevin knows it would be frustrating beyond belief to have to do so. He hears Albus chuckle somewhere in the back of his mind, though he's getting a good deal better at sorting through sounds, blocking the chain out while he listens to his dinner companions.

"You're telling us this because you think the murderer may be responsible for killing the Sinclairs?" Isaac guesses, and the words send a chill down Kevin's spine.

"No," he interjects, sharply, "that isn't right."

Both of them look at him in surprise, and he feels himself flush. He can't help but feel as though he's given himself away somehow.

"They… were good people. They were noble and they were killed inside their home. There was a motivation and a killer who we caught- it's different. People who go around killing noble families don't just go killing strangers on the street. And, and- it was professional, wasn't it? The Sinclairs." His voice wavers a little and he draws in a deep breath. "So if it was the same person they wouldn't have left the boy alive to see their monster."

Thank God, someone, he doesn't know who, has filled up his wineglass. He reaches for it with a relieved breath. The silence stretches on for a few moments, as both his dinner companions regard him openly. Levy looks shrewd and suspicious, Isaac looks startled… and maybe a tiny bit relieved. Has Kevin been that silent recently, that any word spoken is a good one? He doesn't remember.

"Kevin, why didn't you tell me you were interested in police work?" Levy finally breaks the silence, leaning over to clap him on the arm. He starts, but reminds himself that that's probably a good sign, that the inspector is being companionable and whatnot. "We could find you a job down at the station."

He'd probably meant the words to be in jest, but it's a disturbingly real option. His employers are dead, and if he did… it'd at least be a little income to bring back to the house. He glances up at Isaac, who shakes his head softly. For whatever reason, Kevin doesn't know, but he's glad. He doesn't want to be around police officers with something like this seared onto his skin.

"But then who would help Isaac with all the cleaning?" He jokes, pathetically, finishing the wine in his glass and setting it on the table. The drink has painted a soft flush on his cheeks, and he isn't going to have any more. He can't risk a slip of the tongue.

"What kinds of people is this person killing?" He asks, to steer the conversation onwards. The only thing it succeeds in doing, apparently, is making Levy want to rescind that offer. A rather poisonous look crosses the inspector's face.

"That's an interesting question. Bad people, is the answer, which you should keep in mind only in terms of trying to divine for me where he's going to strike next, young Kevin. It's no man's place to rain down justice on the guilty, and if we start forgiving murderers who simply target bad people… well, we'll be no better than the killers themselves, will we?"

"No better than killers," Kevin agrees hastily, if a little faintly. No, he's no better than a killer, is he? Speaking of which, Albus will probably want to eat again tonight, though after this conversation he isn't exactly sure he can afford it.

"Precisely." Levy reaches to top off Kevin's wineglass, but he shakes his head and presses a hand over it, preventing him. The Inspector pours for Isaac instead, who doesn't seem to be paying attention to something so mundane as drink. He's glancing between them, still seemingly listening intently. Kevin feels the same way he does, though for different reasons entirely. Of the three of them, Levy is the only one who is really calm, and Levy continues. "The agency they're calling in, they're a real bother. _Pandora, _they're called, though you aren't to go repeating that or saying that you learned that name from my. They insist on utter secrecy."

So, of course, Levy is telling everyone possible. He isn't bothering to disguise the scorn in his voice, either.

"And they specialize in monsters?" Isaac asks, obviously still a touch disbelieving.

"Among other things," Levy nods, setting the bottle down and turning back to his food. The topic turns to other matters, and Kevin manages to stay focused on it most of the time, though a part of him is still reserved, turning over and over everything that had just been said.

They stay until quite late, until Isaac and Levy are both redfaced and clapping each other on the back. Levy is roaring about agency interference and Isaac is humouring him, while simultaneously trying to steer Kevin out towards the door and into the carriage that has come to take them home. His hands are only a touch unsteady, though it seems like it's more a case of grief than overindulgence. Kevin sympathizes. It's hard to keep the memories away like this.

They lean against each other in the carriage ride home. Isaac is just drunk enough to play with Kevin's hair, and Kevin allows it, still lost in thought.

_Pandora, _Albus murmurs, _we're going to have to be careful of them._

His contractor doesn't know why, but this is the first time his chain has said something that he has absolutely and utterly believed with all his heart.

[AN: thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, and to everyone reading. Heads up that this will probably run about thirteen chapters total. Characters are arbitrarily being named after authors I see on my bookshelf, so thanks to L., Isaac Asimov and Ariel Levy.]


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